


Wicked Game

by TheRudeTasteofSane



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 14:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11762058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRudeTasteofSane/pseuds/TheRudeTasteofSane
Summary: My eyes are blinded by your stars, my blood is blushing so red.





	Wicked Game

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for dark themes. Allusions to torture and rough sex, but nothing explicit.

_You are two sides of the same coin_.

The phrase was a worry stone, worn smooth in Merlin's mind. Comforting in the surety it afforded Merlin that he'd always be linked to Arthur in some fashion. Smiling at the thought, he looked at Arthur.

Sitting regally on his throne, he was looking directly at Merlin as he addressed the court about his new kingship.

Merlin felt a hint of wrongness in Arthur’s gaze, unable to quite place why.

 

\--

 

As Court Sorcerer, Merlin enjoyed the freedom to practice his magic openly. He was grateful that Arthur had given him the opportunity, and worked tirelessly to prove to Arthur that his trust had not been misplaced.

To prove that not all magic is evil.

After months of Merlin tiptoeing around him, taking it easy with magic except in dire circumstances, Arthur grudgingly admitted he was wrong.

As an apology gift to Merlin, beside his throne on the right side, Arthur had a plain wooden chair constructed. He told Merlin to design it however he liked.

Merlin was thrilled. With the enthusiasm of a child who'd received a new toy, he immediately turned his attention to the piece of furniture and chanted a simple transfiguration spell. His eyes flashed gold and he frowned when his vision cleared.

There were times his magic had failed him, but never like this.

Merlin’s new chair gave off an unsettlingly menacing aura, dusky wooden roots twisted into a vaguely chair-like shape. Tall and imposing, it was no longer a humble seat.

“I think it suits you,” Arthur smirked, and Merlin’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the approval. He was not made of the darkness that the throne (resigned, he realized it could be nothing else) seemed to embody.

Hesitantly, he walked over and sat in the throne, finding that it had conformed to his body perfectly, at least. He looked up and his smile faltered a little at the expression of almost carnal pleasure on Arthur's face.

Stirrings of unease fluttered weakly in Merlin's stomach.

 

\--

 

It starts with small things. A restlessness Merlin didn't understand. It wasn't until he'd been asked to attend a serious prisoner questioning that he finally found an outlet for the strange frustration he'd experienced. Arthur seemed pleased that Merlin had taken interest in such things, and began joining Merlin on his visits to the dungeons.

The sight of Leon throwing a would-be murderer into the dungeon cell hard enough to knock him out cold made Merlin shiver with joy. He knew he’d get his fun before the night’s end.

The sight of blood made his heart race and he swallowed with barely contained excitement.

All at once, the still-sane part of Merlin recoiled in horror at the things he’d begun to genuinely take pleasure in. Before he could escape, however, Arthur’s hand settled on his shoulder. The hand was like an iron cape, weighting him in place. Merlin realized he couldn't move, didn't _really_  want to move.

He glanced over at Arthur, and noticed the king's eyes gleaming.

 

\--

 

He began to participate in executions. Only for the worst criminals, of course. His hands should stay mostly clean in the public eye. They trusted him, after all. He was known as the voice of reason when the king sometimes got too harsh with his punishments.

When he was behind castle walls, deep in the dungeons below Camelot, however.. his arms were bloodied to the elbow, both literally and metaphorically.

Arthur stood in the background, his quiet ideas the siren call enticing Merlin further and further out.

As he completed the grisly task in front of him, Merlin reveled in the sense of satisfaction rolling off his once and future king at the sound of a life's last breath.

 

\--

 

He knew it was bound to happen eventually. The elasticity of their red string would only go so far.

Their string was forced to its snapping point when Arthur caught him with Gwaine, much to his secret delight.

They met (after Arthur had taken care that Gwaine would never again get in his way) in a clash of bloody teeth and tongues. Bruises bloomed on Merlin’s delicate flesh, and he savored the contrast against his pale skin.

Arthur’s kiss was a branding iron, the sweet agony that marked Merlin forever as the king’s property.

 

\--

 

It took little time for the rumors to start floating around the castle that Arthur hadn't been seen in Queen Guinevere's chambers lately. That he was often in the company of his ex-manservant-turned-sorcerer. More often than was right, if the servants had a say.

Neither Merlin nor the king dared to openly correct the whispers. But when the most outspoken servants went to the queen to ask questions and started disappearing, the rest of them learned to keep their comments to themselves.

Merlin wore a cruel smirk alongside the proudly displayed love-marks on his neck, relishing the furtive glances of fear he had started receiving from the castle servants.

Shrouded in the darkness his magic had sensed first, the wings of unease lie unmoving.

 

\--

 

The reign of King Arthur was known as a peaceful, bounteous time for Camelot. He managed to seem fair, but unwavering in punishment to those who did wrong.

It was Merlin the people murmured nervously about, eyes shifting about in the taverns to make sure he wasn't listening. It was said that anyone who drew his ire faced grim consequences.

Merlin, cloaked in his old man disguise, merely smiled at the rumors.

Because he was only the instrument, the tool skillfully wielded by their precious monarch.

Blinded by the stars in their eyes, Arthur's faithful subjects had yet to realize that the bright gold crown of their king had been transmuted into tarnished copper.

 

\--

 

Merlin lie awake, Arthur's fingers skimming across his stomach.

"What are you thinking about?" He mouthed against Merlin's ear.

Merlin sighed.

"This," he whispered back, and pressed his mouth to Arthur's. They kissed like two drowned men gasping for air, swallowing lungfuls of each other's breath.

Arthur's grip on Merlin felt like a leash that he’d learned to enjoy.


End file.
